Scenes from a Marriage
by UA
Summary: The ink is barely dry on their marriage license before they have their first argument.
1. Chapter 1

_Scenes from a Marriage_

**~1~**

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The ink is barely dry on their marriage license before they have their first argument.

"Mrs. Sheridan Crane-Lopez-Fitzgerald? I thought…"

Sheridan arches a slim brow in challenge at her husband (_her __**husband, **__her subconscious dreamily sighs_), and waits for him to continue, calmly prompting, "Yes, Luis?" She draws out the beloved name, admiring her ring on his finger as he rakes a slightly agitated hand through his hair, and suppresses the giddy smile that threatens to burst free (_he's her __**husband**_), even now, when she clearly sees that familiar spark of stubbornness flaring to life in his deep brown orbs, when a confused frown steals away his smile and he can't stop himself from blurting out the question she's been preparing herself for the entire day.

"Crane-Lopez-Fitzgerald?"

Sheridan shrugs, thinks of family and miracles (_she still can't believe her brother had given her away_) and never forgetting her roots, and she speaks from her heart as she tells him, more comfortable now, somehow, than she's ever been in her own skin, "For better or worse, Luis, there'll always be a part of me that's a Crane. I think our children should know the whole me, like you do."

Luis softens at the mention of their _(theoretical_) children, and his big hands wrap around her waist, so dark against the pure white of her shimmering gown, and he pulls her close, so close he can feel the gossamer flutter of her eyelashes against his face as she presses equally close to him. He pulls his head back, to gaze into eyes of glittering blue, and it feels like the sun is smiling at him through those wondrous eyes, and he can't help but smile back, especially when a thought occurs to him that he can't let go unvoiced. "And I thought Lopez-Fitzgerald was long."

Chagrined, Sheridan lowers her head to hide the pink of her cheeks, and before she knows it she is giggling, softly, into his chest. "Okay," she relents, "We won't subject our kids to the longest hyphenated name in Harmony history." Sobering, she lifts her head, one of Luis's hands now in her hair, and reaffirms a wish she hadn't realized she'd held before this day of wonder. "I want them to know who they are, every part of them, and to appreciate what a miracle it was that their parents fell in love with each other."

"You sound like a Hallmark card," Luis gently teases, cupping her jaw with his hand and tugging her forward to brush his mouth against her own, even as she laughs at the apt description of her unexpected outpouring of emotion. Luis rocks back on his heels to look at her, boyish hope shining in his eyes as he lets them travel where they will, from her golden curls, the graceful curve of her bare shoulder, the diamond sparkling star-like on her finger, to the place where he someday hopes she'll carry and nurture their child, and shyly he gives her the first hint of one of his most fervent dreams, "All this talk of children. Is there something you should tell me?"

Sheridan's smile is equally coy, but she shakes her head, outlining the corners of his mouth with her fingers before kissing him and murmuring in the space between them when they part, "Not yet."

Luis kisses her brow, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth, as he grasps her hands in his own, threading and lacing their fingers together tightly. "We can get an early start," he breathes, even as he hears the nearby approach of footsteps, "skip the reception."

Sheridan catches sight of a familiar figure over his shoulder, and her blue eyes dance as she says, "You'd disappoint your sister that way?"

Luis graces Sheridan with a slow grin. "I'm sure Theresa would understand. She's always wanted to be an aunt. Right, Sis?" He delights in the way Sheridan curls into him (_he can't wait to discover and catalog all the different ways he can make her turn that pretty shade of pink) _as he turns them around to face his kid sister, and he feels just the slightest bit of remorse at the mixture of embarrassment and heady anticipation at war with each other on his sister's features. He takes pity on her (_and his bride_) and transforms himself back into the responsible older brother she grew up with, the one who wouldn't dream of committing such an impetuous act as skipping his own wedding reception in favor of starting his honeymoon early, and looks at her expectantly.

Smiling slightly, Theresa reminds them both, all without meeting their eyes directly, "Everybody's getting a little anxious to get the party started. Hank's trying out his speech on anyone that'll listen." Her lips pursing, her dark eyes holding just a hint of humor, she continues, "Mama sent me to get you two before he has a chance to tell it to Father Lonagin. She thinks some of it might be a little, uh, inappropriate."

Luis groans and loosens his arm from Sheridan's waist to cover his eyes.

"That's not all," Theresa giggles. "He keeps insisting to Gwen that it's a tradition that the maid of honor and the best man _hook up_. I think she's running out of hiding places."

Sheridan stifles a laugh at her friend's expense. "Poor Gwen."

"So…" Theresa gestures animatedly with her hands, "as much as I wouldn't mind being called _Aunt Theresa_, can it wait?" She finds she can't look at them, and it's awkward and uncomfortable and all the other words associated with the feeling, and she semi-pleads, "Do you know how hard I worked on making this reception the best?"

"You said the same thing about the wedding," Luis smirks, but the expression falls away when Sheridan pinches his side, hard.

Sheridan speaks up, her words the balm that puts her new sister-in-law at ease. "You go ahead of us, tell them we're coming."

Luis agrees. "Just a few more minutes." When Theresa looks at them both skeptically, he can't help but sigh, "One, two tops."

"Okay," Theresa concedes. "But if I don't see your smiling faces by then," she warns.

"Understood," Luis cuts her off with a nod. His lips twitching with a grin, he vows, "This won't take long." He watches her go, and when they are alone again, he snags his brand-new bride by the waist and hauls her close when it seems like she's intent on following in Theresa's footsteps, "Whoa. Where do you think you're going?"

"Luis," Sheridan squirms within his arms before he gentles her with his persuasive hands and she melts against him, her hands braced against his strong shoulders, "You heard your sister. We can't keep them waiting forever."

"Somebody has to go rescue Gwen," Luis smiles.

"Or Hank from himself," Sheridan quips, her fingers sliding into his hair when he molds himself against her and gives her a kiss that melts her insides. "Luis," she whimpers slightly in protest when his lips leave hers to fasten onto her sensitive neck, "you heard Theresa."

Finally, Luis breaks away from her, but it is with great reluctance. His gaze is serious, his words even more so, as he looks at their joined hands, their matching bands of gold, and breathes, as if only just realizing the truth of this day, "We have the rest of our lives. One little reception isn't much to suffer through."

"No," Sheridan's giddy smile is back, permanent it seems, as she takes his hand and lets him lead her toward their friends and family, the new life that awaits them, "it isn't."

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**I do not own Passions or the characters therein. **


	2. Chapter 2

**~2~**

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Title: Scenes from a Marriage  
Rating: PG  
Warning: Teeth-rotting sweetness alluded to in my author's note (lol); suggestions of nekkidness  
Pairing/Characters: Sheridan/Luis, with mentions of Julian and Katherine (who don't actually make any appearances)  
Word Count: 658  
Summary (for chapter): _Luis realizes with the dawning of the fourth morning of their Spanish honeymoon that he can't stop touching her. _

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Luis realizes with the dawning of the fourth morning of their Spanish honeymoon that he can't stop touching her. It's an addiction, one he has no desire to rehabilitate. His heart both pounds and beats more softly (_is that even possible?)_ when he feels that connection, no matter how small, and he marvels at the sweetness that just being here, like this, with her, a Crane no less, fills his body with, not to mention his heart.

"Luis?" Sheridan murmurs sleepily, and she settles more fully against the warm cavern his body and the tumbled sheets at their waists create. "What time's it?"

Luis's lips curve into a grin where they reside, at play, mapping the smoothness of the blade of her sun-kissed shoulder. He feels the whisper of a gentle, warm breeze upon his face, and wonders at the notion that, somewhere, somehow (_the somehow is not so much a mystery to him_), they have left a window, maybe even a door, open to the limitless beauty that lies in wait. "Late," he guesses, and instinctually he knows she's smiling at him and his reluctance to let go of her to search for his watch, which surely must be around here someplace, maybe tucked away in his suitcase. They'd stopped measuring the passage of time with anything but the golden-orange sunrises and the pink-purple sunsets the moment they'd stepped off of that plane. Perhaps (_Luis admits this only to himself_) he does owe Julian Crane a thank you, or at least some small expression of gratitude for his choice of wedding present to his sister. He sobers with the thought, for Sheridan has gained much more than a honeymoon trip of a lifetime with the downfall of Alistair Crane's house of cards; she has (_re_)gained a brother she's long thought lost, and a semblance of peace she's never possessed before. His hand skims her shoulder, travels down her arm, where it lingers on her elbow. His mouth brushes her skin as he speaks, his smile in his words, when her stomach decides to butt into their conversation, impatient and loud, growling and making her giggle into their shared pillow. "I'm guessing it's noon, maybe lunch time."

"What if I want breakfast?" Sheridan mumbles into her pillow.

For a brief moment, Luis revisits the previous morning, when she'd surprised him with breakfast in bed. Wearing nothing but his shirt, she'd tucked her bare legs beneath her like a little girl (_when she had looked like anything but_), and offered him a tray of colorful fruit, sweet juice, rich, steaming coffee, and a lumpy plate of scrambled eggs. He wants to laugh at what love (_and marriage_) has done to him, how much it has changed him: he'd eaten the eggs. Breakfast is okay, he decides, but he's making it. "Pancakes?" he suggests. He smirks when her stomach again growls, and his hand leaves her elbow to trace her forearm, and he hears girlish hope and anticipation in her answer.

"Blueberry?"

Their villa is well-stocked (_he thinks maybe Katherine had a hand in that; Julian, he knows, doesn't do domestic_), and he's pretty sure they have everything they need to keep them happy and well-fed for the duration of their honeymoon, including fresh blueberries for his wife's pancakes. "I think blueberry is a definite possibility," he tells her. She stretches and sighs contentedly, but still he keeps that connection, and when she settles again, all warm limbs and delicious skin, Luis discovers her hand threaded with his, and he admires the dancing glint of their matching wedding bands in the sunlight. He's in no hurry to disturb this moment. Long minutes later, her grumbling stomach aside, he realizes, neither is she. So they lie there, wrapped up in each other, savoring the other's closeness until a shadow creeps around the corner and peeks into their sun-dappled bedroom.

Sheridan ends up feeding him blueberry pancakes for an early dinner.

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**Thanks, Shaun, for the feedback on the last chapter. **

**It was much appreciated. **

**Hope you enjoy this new installment. **

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**~3~**

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_Title: Scenes from a Marriage  
Rating: G  
Warning: Does a warning for sappiness count?  
Pairing/Characters: Sheridan/Luis, Ethan/Theresa  
Word Count: 671  
Summary (for chapter): __Just before she surrenders and lets sleep pull her under, Sheridan whispers into his ear, "You're a good brother, Luis."_

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Theresa meets them at the airport—with Ethan.

They've traveled a long, torturous road to get to where they are (_she still can't believe he's still by her side, has chosen to stay there for the rest of their lives, no less_), and along the course of that journey Luis has surprised her in a multitude of ways, but she knows, letting go of that part of the past is still a challenge that he hasn't yet surmounted. Though stripped of his Crane heritage, Ethan still has more to prove in her husband's eyes. Ethan, it is obvious, is just as cognizant of the hard work ahead of him. She hugs her nephew (_he'll always, always be her family_), lets him take the suitcase from her hands, and welcomes Theresa's own exuberant embrace as Luis looks on.

"How was it?" Theresa's eyes are large and bright and filled to the brim with curiosity as she blurts the question, holding Sheridan at length. "Was Costa Marbella beautiful?" she asks her brother. Before Luis has a chance to answer that question, she asks another and another, and behind her, Ethan smiles fondly.

The newlyweds share a secret smile (_it's good to be home, Sheridan tells Luis with her eyes_), and Sheridan answers Theresa's questions as best she can, Luis pitching in, as they weave through the throng of anxious/weary travelers, finally emerging into the sunlight, arriving at the car that awaits them. Luis raises a skeptical brow when Ethan slides in behind the wheel after taking care of their luggage, but he doesn't say anything, and the slow, relieved breath Theresa releases makes Sheridan smile inwardly. When Luis moves to take the passenger seat, across from Ethan, though, Sheridan takes his hand, tugging him into the backseat with her.

Luis settles beside her, casting her a questioning glance, but his tense posture soon relaxes and he rests their joined hands upon her knee.

Theresa fills the silences with nervous chatter, and Ethan's blue eyes take turns watching the road in front of him, and Sheridan in the rear-view mirror.

Hoping to put them both more at ease, Sheridan decides to express her (_and Luis's_) gratitude. "I can't tell you how good it was to see you—the both of you. Spain was amazing." She shares another smile with Luis when he squeezes her hand in agreement. "But it was time to come home. To Harmony." Sheridan feels her breath catch a little, just so, in her chest, and she wonders if anyone else notices; the sincere truth of her words is not so much a revelation to them, perhaps, as it is to her—for the first since she can remember, she truly feels them, in the deepest recesses of her heart. Harmony (_Luis_) is home to her.

Luis echoes her sentiment and lifts her hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss against Sheridan's skin that makes her sigh with contentment, and if he notices the look that passes between Ethan and Theresa at the affectionate gesture, he ignores it in favor of tugging Sheridan closer and coaxing her golden head to his strong shoulder when she tries, and fails, to suppress a yawn.

Safe and secure in her husband's arms, Sheridan feels her eyelids growing heavy and struggling to stay open, but she doesn't miss Ethan taking Theresa's hand in his own, and neither, she knows, does Luis. She waits, Luis's heartbeat thrumming steadily beneath her ear, for Luis to make some comment, to effectively deliver his verdict on the (_everything old is new again_) development, but he just tightens his arm around her and releases a slow, deep breath, his silence speaking loud and clear (_it's his blessing, of _sorts) and making Sheridan's heart swell with love for him. Just before she surrenders and lets sleep pull her under, Sheridan whispers into his ear, "You're a good brother, Luis."

Luis will prove to her, countless times in the coming years, something she already knows: that he's an even better man.

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**Thanks so much for the feedback, Shaun. **

**It's much appreciated. **

**Hope you enjoyed this installment. **

**I don't know about you, but I think Sheridan's got herself a keeper. **

**;)**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

~4~

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Title_:_ Scenes from a Marriage  
Rating_:_ R_-_ish _(I say_ ish_..._maybe it's hard PG_-_13_,_ dunno_) _  
Warning_:_ Romanticized smut_,_ lol_. _  
Pairing_/_Characters_:_ Sheridan and Luis with mentions of Gwen and Hank  
Word Count_: _1_,_007  
Summary _(_for chapter_): They're home (the cottage temporarily bears that distinction) less than a week when Sheridan realizes she hasn't spoken to Gwen since the reception. Much to Luis's disappointment/reluctant amusement the realization occurs at a rather inopportune time. _

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They're home (_the_ _cottage_ _temporarily_ _bears_ _that_ _distinction_) less than a week when Sheridan realizes she hasn't spoken to Gwen since the reception. Much to Luis's disappointment/reluctant amusement the realization occurs at a rather _inopportune_ time. A little breathlessly, she blurts out, "Were there any messages on the answering machine?"

Luis's mouth stills at her collarbone, but his hands remain at play, and he murmurs his reply into the sweet little hollow at the base of her throat. "Messages?"

Sheridan's breath catches again when Luis's right hand travels a deliberate path of seduction (_in_ _this_ _bed_, _with_ _her_, _her_ _noble_, _law_-_abiding_ _husband_ _commits_ _acts_ _that_ _should_ _be_ _criminal_ _with_ _his_ _talented_ _hands_), and her thought processes become a little foggy, but not so much so that she doesn't feel (_see with_ _her_ _mind's_ _eye_) her husband's smirk against the swell of her breast. She combs her nails through his dark hair as his movements shift him a little further down her body, and the soft candlelight that makes the shadows dance upon their bedroom's walls illuminates the mischief in his dark orbs as the front clasp of her bra is released with an effortless flick of his fingers. Sheridan's head drops back against the softness of her pillow when his lips mark a trail between the valley of her breasts to her navel and back, and her fingers tighten in his hair as she feels her body grow both heavy and boneless and tight with arousal at his actions. It's an interesting paradox that she doesn't have an opportunity to contemplate any further because those criminal hands have been joined by a mouth that's beautiful and obscene and sinful, and she forgets about the damn messages for a little while. She forgets about _everything_ until, funnily enough, Luis brings the subject back up.

Luis's large hands span the small of her back as he lifts her to him, and Sheridan's legs fall open over his thighs as he seats her in his lap. He mouths her chin as her hands grip his shoulders, and she rises up on her knees to bring them closer together until not even a breath separates them, and somewhere in the haze of how good she feels, how lucky he is to be holding her like this, he remembers her question. He stifles a groan when her small hands stroke down his chest, dip into the waistband of his boxers, and clench into the skin stretched tightly across his hipbones, and he answers her. "Hank called."

Sheridan's hazy, unfocused blue eyes stare back at him uncomprehendingly, forcing Luis to elaborate.

He does so through gritted teeth as she works him free of his boxers and tosses them somewhere in the general direction of the foot of the bed. "He left a message," he says. "On the machine," he further explains, though somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders why they are having this discussion now. Of their own accord, his fingers refuse to be outdone by hers (_in_ _this_, _as_ _they_ _are_ _in_ _everything_ _else_, _they_ _are_ _competitive_, _neither_ _willing_ _to_ _back_ _down_ _or_ _make_ _concessions_), pulling and pushing at the scrap of material that is all that separates them until Sheridan decides to be magnanimous and assists him in removing the flimsy black lace before settling back into his lap (_still just_ _out_ _of_ _reach_ _of_ _where_ _he_ _wants_, _needs_ _her_).

Sheridan's arms wind around his neck, and she kisses him, and it starts out sweet, innocent almost, before it turns sloppy and she's panting against his lips, not making any sense with her questions (_especially_ _not_ _to_ _her_..._why_ _is_ _it_ _suddenly_ _so_ _important_ _that_ _Gwen_ _hasn't_ _called_, _hasn't_ _so_ _much_ _as_ _said_ _hello_ _since_ _the_ _wedding_? _And_ _Hank_? _Hank_ _never_ _leaves_ _messages_). "Did you call him back?"

Luis groans, and not just because her long legs have snaked tightly around his hips. She's there. Just...right there, and he's having trouble thinking, forget conversation. But he makes the effort anyway, his short, concise answer in direct opposition to the long, slow, deliberate slide of her when she starts to move. "Later." Sheridan's skin tastes salty beneath his lips when they fasten on her neck, and she's slippery smooth when reaches a hand down to touch her.

"What?" the question stutters past her slack lips, and she can't concentrate on anything but the feel of him and his hands and his mouth. She loses the thread of the conversation when he buries his dark head between her breasts, and his hands slip/slide down her thighs to the sensitive underside of her knees, and her world goes topsy-turvy when he topples her to the mattress below. The sheets feel blessedly cool against her back (_God_, _she's_ _burning_ _up_), and her fumbling hand shoves the pillows and comforter aside. She arches up into him and her legs hitch higher, leaving his hips to grip his sides, and one of Luis's hands is braced against the bed, right beside her head, clenching and unclenching the sheets in its tight grip as he moves purposefully, rhythmically. She loses herself in him, his eyes, his body, and her hands map out his beloved face, trace the by-now memorized features she hopes their children will someday inherit. She kisses him, he kisses her, they kiss each other, and as sappy as it sounds, Sheridan knows, that each time they do _this_, each time they make love in their marriage bed, she's giving him her whole heart anew, like it's the first time, and so is he. This is where they're going to start their family; that's her only thought when they find completion together. Not Hank. Not Gwen. Only them, and this bed, and the love she never dared to hope she'd find.

The candles are melted down, and the moon paints their silhouettes silver when Luis gathers her in his strong arms and tucks her close to his heart.

Sheridan falls asleep to the tune of its comforting beat.

Two days later, Gwen calls.

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**Thanks so much for the feedback on the earlier chapters, Shaun. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :D**

**Keep that feedback coming! Nom-nom. **

**LOL!**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**P.S. I'm going to leave this rated T, because, with the exception of maybe a handful of chapters, the overall fic is pretty much PG-13 territory. If anyone else thinks differently or objects, just let me know. I'll up it to M. **


	5. Chapter 5

**~5~**

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**Title: **Scenes from a Marriage  
**Rating: **R-ish, due to activities of a, ahem, sexual nature  
**Warning: **see rating above  
**Pairing/Characters: **this one's strictly Sheridan/Luis folks, unless you count the mention of Sam and the Harmony PD (I don't)  
**Word Count: **830  
_**Summary (for chapter): **__The teasing Luis gets from the guys when he walks into the Harmony PD forty-five minutes late is well-worth it._

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Sheridan wakes to find Luis's side of the bed empty, the sheets cool beneath her seeking fingertips.

The sun is neither up nor down, the sky outside their bedroom windows still holding the faint glow of the rapidly fading stars.

A tiny sliver of yellow light attempts an unsuccessful, covert escape from the bathroom, but the muffled sounds of running water within give her husband's location away, and Sheridan slips from the bed with a smile curling her lips and purpose in her silent steps.

The mirror above the sink is too fogged up to track her progress, the damp heat of the shower wafting through the room heavy and fragrant.

Luis smirks at her over his shoulder with the shower curtain's protesting movement, and his dark eyes glitter appreciatively at her nude form as she crowds into the small stall behind him. "Sheridan," he sighs as her arms snake around his waist from behind, her soft breasts pillowed against his back. "It's my first day back."

Sheridan presses her mouth to the supple skin between his shoulder blades, drags one hand up his chest while the other rests low on his hip, tracing tickling circles on his wet skin. "Does that mean no goodbye kiss?" she pouts.

"I was going to…" Luis's protest fades into a groan as the hand on his chest finds one flat nipple and starts to play. "Sheridan," he captures the hand at his hip before it can get any ideas of its own and brings it to his mouth.

"Luis," Sheridan plays coy, pressing her cheek against Luis's strong shoulder when he kisses her palm. Her smile broadens when he breathes a sigh of relief with the withdrawal of her hand, and she bites back a wicked laugh at his sharp intake of breath when it finds a new home, where his back starts the gentle but tight swell of his buttocks.

Luis drops his head heavily to the tile before him, and he continues to protest but his big hands cover her smaller ones when they feign a retreat. "The guys will never let me hear the end of it if I'm late."

Sheridan drops another kiss to the powerful line of his spine, and assures him, "You won't be." Luis has her left hand clenched in his own, resting over his breastbone, and she can feel the forceful beat of his heart beneath her smooth palm. Her other hand dips lower, reaches, and closes around the unmistakable evidence that his complaints are merely token. He's like silken steel under her ministrations, and she handles him gently, reverently, until Luis's rougher hand over her own dictates a change in tactics. They play by his rules until realization, like the warm water that is their only cover, washes over her, and she removes her hand, leaving Luis shuddering and weak, wanton for her continued touch. "You were going to sneak out," she accuses.

Luis doesn't answer her, his silence damning enough, and he cuts rueful dark eyes back to look at her. He doesn't answer her, but he doesn't let go of her either, grasping her hand tightly in his own and rubbing his thumb over her wedding band. He feels shame for the disappointed dulling of her vivid blue eyes, and he's finally spurred to defend himself. "You looked so peaceful."

Sheridan rolls her eyes at him, pressing her forehead back between his shoulder blades, but she doesn't relax, doesn't let him pull her closer to him again, like a second skin, until he makes a hushed admission.

"I thought it'd make it easier. To leave," Luis elaborates. Chagrined, he laughs painfully as he tells her, "Boy, was I wrong. I hate saying goodbye to you."

Sheridan's arms close around him in a forgiving hug. "I can join the police force," she teases, her thumb straying to Luis's belly button and dipping inside. "Be Mrs. Supercop."

"You already _are_ Mrs. Supercop," Luis reminds her with a chuckle. "Besides, I'd never get any work done."

"Well, you know what they say about all work and no play," Sheridan breathes into his ear, her capable fingers creeping downward to resume their delightful torture.

"First day back," Luis grits out regretfully. His brown eyes widen as Sheridan skirts around him, all slippery golden skin and curves.

Sheridan gives him a wicked wink as she takes the matter firmly in hand, "I guess that means I should give you a proper send-off then, it being your first day back and all—change the way you feel about saying goodbye to me."

Luis can only groan as her blonde head disappears quickly from his hooded view.

Harmony is wide awake beneath the fiery blaze of the sun when the newlyweds reluctantly part ways, and Luis's cell phone screen blinks with a message from Sam that goes ignored.

The teasing Luis gets from the guys when he walks into the Harmony PD forty-five minutes late is well-worth it.

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**LOL at your feedback for the last chapter, Shaun. **

**I think it's safe to say Sheridan's only thinking of her husband this time. **

**;)**

**Feedback would be much appreciated. **

**Thanks so much for reading!**


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